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Home Alone

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I cautiously walk through doorways,
Rubbing my hand up and down the wall
Before entering,
Searching for the light switch.

I am too old for this,
I say,
And test my self,
Walking down the dark hallways
Without taking a glance back,
And without hastening my stride,
Keeping my eyes locked on my destination,
While my dog watches curiously with one ear raised.

Every car that passes my house
Seems to be driving a bit too slow.
As I sit on my couch
In the dim, blue glow of the TV,
I imagine horrific scenarios
That I am being watched
And I begin to see faces out of the window,
Strangers and ghouls dancing across the yard,
Until their gray images are lost in the void.

Children are afraid of the dark,
I tell myself,
And flip off the lights,
And begin my quest to lock every door,
And to turn off every light,
Except for the small bulb above the kitchen sink,
That glows orange through the night,
Attracting moths and other small bugs to
Congregate, just beyond the glass window.

I tell myself goodnight
Before ascending up the creaky stairs
To the safety of my bedroom.
My dog follows at my heels
As I switch off the light
And collapse into my inviting covers,
And wait for the sun to rise.





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